


Cicurate

by KaelsMiscellany



Series: Seasons-verse [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Lydia Martin - HBIC, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-24
Updated: 2013-04-15
Packaged: 2017-11-15 00:06:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/520941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaelsMiscellany/pseuds/KaelsMiscellany
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Latin meaning: to bring out from the wilderness or madness.</p><p>The road to her love is long and winding but he's more than willing to walk it. Or how Lydia Martin, human, became Alpha in her own right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He sat in her half-filled tub and watched her shave.

Lydia's pretty sure she should find something creepy about having a forty something year-old man in her bathroom while she was in her underwear, but creepy was relative and on the whole this was harmless. In about an hour she'd head over to Allison's to talk clothes; just because Allison was being a bitch of a best friend didn't mean Lydia was going to be too. But for now there was just her and him.

Peter smiled, “you're much more forgiving than I would be my Moon.”

She froze mid-stroke. “I am not your anything.”

He went from cross-legged to on his knees in the blink of an eye, but didn't move any closer. “Ah, but your birthday brings a full moon with it tonight.” _Worm moon._ “And I am nothing if not helpless to it's powers.”

His smile turned warm and it did funny things to her insides. Things got even funnier when his eyes went electric-werewolf-red. Suddenly he was far too close and she brandished her razor as if it could do real harm. “Lydia, please.”

She stared at him, dragging out the moment. When he looked like he was about to jump her regardless, she answered: “no.”

He snarled, fangs and eyes flashing, but slumped back. Even if it was only an illusion, at least she has control over what happens between them in _that_ respect. She continued shaving as if nothing happened. When she finished she swished the razor through the water to clean it off before putting it away. She has to reach a little to grab her bottle of lotion, but it was worth it.

Lydia only managed to pop open the cap before Peter took it from her, she didn't protest. He moved again, this time so that she could prop her feet against his shoulders. Taking her left foot in his hands he began to give her a very through foot massage.

She tried, and failed, to bite back a moan as his slightly calloused fingers dug into her arch. He chuckled and she scowled.

With broad, circular strokes he moved up her foot and onto her calf. Her fingers scrambled for purchase as his pressed deeper.

She gave a small cry of dismay when he stopped at her knee, though it turned into a happy sigh when he moved to her other foot. When he reached that knee he stopped again, but kept his hands there, gently stroking her skin. “It's your birthday today.”

Lydia raised an eyebrow, “really? I hadn't noticed.”

“Would you like a present?”

She bit back her automatic response of 'yes'; she was not Stiles, she would think her answers through damn it. “What kind of present?”

“What would you like?”

Lydia heard about a million dark promises in that question, and Peter's eyes were red again. She straightened as best she could, folded her hands primly on her lap, and gave a saccharine-sweet smile. “For you to leave me alone.”

Peter laughed. Then took her completely by surprise by burying his nose in the crook of her knee. She could practically feel his voice in her bones when he spoke again. “Would you like to why my nephew fears you?”

It took her a moment to realize he was talking about Derek, who attracted social outcasts like flies to honey; _must be the jacket and car._ “He doesn't even know me.”

She could feel Peter's lips curve in a smile. “And yet he tried to have you killed.”

_Fear and panic course through her veins as she cowers in the bathroom, hating herself for being so weak._ “Why?”

He turned his face to meet her eyes. “Why does he fear you?”

She nodded, then added: “why weren't you there?”

Between one moment and the next the distance between them shrank. With her sitting and him between her legs their height difference wasn't as bad and she only had to tilt her head a little to meet his eyes. “You were still terrified of me, my being there would have hindered more than helped.” His hand reached up to rest on her cheek. “I am sorry for that though.”

The silence that fell between them in that moment was perfect.

“But as for the 'why' of fearing you in the first place, it wasn't just because he thought you were the Kanima. It also had to do with your scent.”

Lydia frowned. “My scent?”

Peter nodded, then buried his face in her neck. She could feel the rush of air against her nape as he inhaled. “Lydia, my dear, to be perfectly frank you smell of aconitum. Getting used to your scent is dangerous; how do I know it's you I smell and not some hunter trying to kill me?”

She didn't know how to answer that.

Once again silence fell between them. This time neither felt the need to break it. She watched as he picked up her lotion bottle and slathered some between his hands. This time she barely felt those hands as they slid up her legs.

When he finished he stepped out of the tub, clothes drying as he did so. He offered her a hand, she refused and climbed out on her own, brushing past him to get to her room.

It was time to pretend she was normal and stable again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Lydia's dress](http://i209.photobucket.com/albums/bb127/MordredsGirl/1950SuitChristianDior.jpg)

He heard her before anything else; the unsteady _click_ of heels as she picked her way through detritus and tree roots, the _thump, thump_ of her heart, and the rush of air as she breathed. Next was her smell: aconitum spiced with pepper/anger, straw/nervousness, and iron/determination.

How very interesting.

A minute or so later she entered through the door. He was more than willing to admit the first thing that caught his eye were her blood-red heels. The rest of her, all _adult_ and sophisticated in dark gray and red, was just as stunning. “Hello Lydia.”

“Peter.”

Her voice was cold and knife sharp. It gave him a pleasant chill. “To what do I own the pleasure of your company?”

“You.”

He arched an eyebrow and smirked. “I didn't know you found me so irresistible.”

Pepper/anger almost overwhelmed even her scent of aconitum; but physically she remained calm and collected. “Hardly.” He was only barely surprised that she was telling the truth. She crossed her arms and iron/determination returned. “No, this is about your mental bullying during the past few weeks. Because if you think I'm going to let it stand you've got another think coming.”

She was glorious and he relished his body's reactions: how his cock grew hard and electricity raced up his spine. Her assertion also pulled his wolf to the surface and he gave her a toothy grin. And gods above he wanted her.

He lunged, not to attack, but to test her. Anything less than her best was unacceptable for his mate.

She didn't scream, or run away. Lydia Martin stood her ground. While the urge to knock her down and mark her everywhere still roared within him he managed to pull himself short a few steps from her.

His smile turned genuine. “Well, well, well. Lydia seems to have learned something. Care to share it with the rest of the class?”

For a moment her lips twitched and her scent was shot through with ozone/?. He wondered what he could do to incite that scent again, he'd though he knew all her emotions. She uncrossed her arms and tilted her chin up, looking him straight in the eye, challenging him. “You have no power over me, and you never did.”

Peter chuckled; not because she was wrong, or to belittle her, but because it evoked a memory from _before_ that filled him with a now foreign warmth. He took a step closer, “and if you're wrong?”

Sharpie/confusion flashed through her, as if she hadn't even considered it. The warmth grew and his wolf gave a happy yip.

“But I'm not,” despite her best efforts he heard the slight tremor in her voice.

Part of him wanted to call her out on it, the other conceded that she was allowed a little human frailty. . .for now. He stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her, one at her waist, the other at her shoulders. “And how will you redress this wrong?”

For a few moments there was silence and he bit back a wolf-whine as she stood and seemed to endure his embrace. 

“Maybe I won't do anything at all,” she finally answered. Sulfur/indifference made his nose itch. His wolf snared at her apathy. 

And when she started to move he let her go, his fingers on her waist curling slightly to trace her scars.

He watched her leave and found he was smiling. Not a 'yes' but not a 'no' either. He could be patient.

-

After she left the Hale house she headed towards Allison's. But when all she got there was Allison's grandfather, a creepy-ass leer, and “she's not here, but you're more than welcome to wait for her;” she left.

She headed to Stiles', more than willing to use his crush and lack of brain to mouth filter against him. The now-Sheriff-again answered the door. His smile was warm, “hello Lydia.”

She returned it with one of her own, “is Stiles in?”

He nodded and stepped aside. “He's in his room, head on up. Though you might want to knock first.” He shrugged as if to say, 'what can you do?'.

“Thanks,” she said as she brushed past him.

For a moment as she climbed up the stairs memories of being seven and coming over to hang out with Stiles and his awesome mom threaten to consume her. But only for a moment, then she pushed past them and continued on her way. At least being cool-hearted was good for something.

She debated for a moment on whether she should actually knock or just barge in. Habitual politeness made her knock.

The door opened and Stiles looked completely surprised. “Lydia! You were not the person I was expecting. But may I say you are looking quite nice today.”

She found she didn't care, and instead of easing into her question she just straight up asked: “who can teach me how to protect myself from werewolves?”

For a moment he gaped at her, and then that lovely lack of brain to mouth filter kicked in, “Doctor Deaton.”

Which she never would have guessed in a million years. “The vet?”

He nodded, and she smiled and gave him a pat on the cheek. “Thanks Stiles.”

She was out the front door by the time he caught up. He grabbed her arm to stop her and she glared at him. “Lydia. . .how did you find out?”

She twisted her arm and broke his grip, “well it was certainly no thanks to you.”

Stiles recoiled at her tone. “I wanted to tell you! But. . .”

“But what?” She hissed, voice full of contempt. “The secrecy of your little club more important than my own sanity?”

Stiles looked like a dying fish. A familiar tired ache began to well up, and she waved off whatever half-assed excuse he was going to give her. “You know what Stiles? I don't care anymore. Just as long as you all don't bother me anymore I'll be fine.”

She was about to climb into her car when Stiles apparently found his voice again. “We can't protect you if you don't trust us Lydia.”

She gave him a look, “who says I need your protection?”

And with that she headed off to the vet's.

-

The bell above the door jingled as she entered. Her eyes went to Deaton standing behind the counter, and for a brief moment she wondered if he was waiting for her or if it was completely serendipitous. Either way it didn't really matter. “Stiles told me you could teach me how to protect myself.”

Deaton just smiled, opened the partition, and beckoned her forward.

-

When she got home she ignored her father and step-mother's pleasantries and headed up to her room. She'd wait until tomorrow to lay down the mountain ash, less chance of being interrupted that way, but laying down dried wolfsbane blossoms on most the flat surfaces of her room was easy. Even if handling them reminded her of things she didn't want to remember.

Staring at the pale yellow, that blended in quite well with the white windowsills, blossoms now covering everything didn't make her feel safer, but Deaton had assured her it would work. _“There are two hundred and fifty different species of aconitum. And each affects werewolves in a different manner. When werewolves smell this one it instills in them the urge to run away, that's why this species is called wolfsbane. The urge is so intense that even strong-willed wolves will be hard pressed to resist.”_

He never asked why she needed protection, just gave various items to her and explained how each worked and how to use them correctly, for which she was grateful. But something about the way he acted told her he already knew why.

As she headed down for dinner her mind was already figuring out the best uses for the powered aconitum he gave her. And wondering if she could bribe Mr. Harris with the offer of taking over his tutoring sessions if he'd let her use the senior chem lab.


	3. Chapter 3

Lydia woke late Friday morning alone and feeling well rested. Both were so alien to her that she froze, half expecting it to be a trick of his. But minutes passed, nothing happened, and she remembered _he's not in my head anymore_.

She decided to skip breakfast to take advantage of all the alone time she had. Plugging her Ipod in she turned it up as loud as it would go.

The music followed her down to the garage where she loaded up on everything she thought she would need. Back in her room everything went on her bed along with a ziplock bag full of mountain ash.

She grabbed the crowbar from the pile, cleared a corner of her carpet off and got down to the business of tearing up the edges.

When she finished three hours later she was sweating and breathing hard, made for manual labor she was not. But now nothing supernatural could cross into her room; she'd wanted to do her bathroom too, but showering would have always washed part of the 'circle' away, but unless someone came through the floor or ceiling she felt certain she'd be safe there without the circle.

Now all she had to do was believe the circle would actually keep her safe. She wrung her hands; she hadn't believed in much since she was a child, and even then she'd been dubious. How could clapping and saying 'I do believe in fairies. I do, I do,' bring a dead Tinkerbell back to life?

She was sure that if she actually _talked_ to Mrs. Morrell, the councilor probably would have said her loss of 'innocence' had something to do with her parent's divorce and her mother gallivanting off to some foreign country. _Not even a card this year mom, thanks._ Bitterness welled up, but she just ignored it.

Luckily distraction came in the form of the doorbell ringing. Not even bothering to turn off her music she headed down the stairs.

Stiles waited on the other side of the door and she slammed it shut but didn't leave.

He pounded on the door. “Come on Lydia, I just want to talk. I'm worried about you.”

His words made something in her chest twist uncomfortably. Realizing it was a stupid idea, but deciding to do it anyways, she opened the door again. The naked relief on Stiles' face should not have made her feel better.

“What Stiles?”

He shuffled his feet, hands twitching. “So uh, how are you?”

She gave him a flat look. “I'm fine Stiles. If all you're going to give me is banal conversation then leave.”

“I'm not doing that at all! This is us, not having a banal conversation.”

He could be so transparent sometimes. “Just ask Stiles.”

“How did you find out about werewolves?”

For some reason hearing that word from Stiles made it real. And she saw no point in hiding, it so she answered, “Peter told me”

“Peter, Peter who. . .” He looked confused for a moment and then froze. “Do you mean Peter Hale?”

She sighed, “No Stiles, Peter Peter Pumpkin-eater. Yes Stiles! Peter Hale told me.”

“Lydia. . .Peter's dead.”

She looked him straight in the eye. “Not anymore.”

“People don't just come back from the dead!”

And they were not going to have the rest of this conversation in her doorway for all the world to hear. She grabbed him by the over shirt and pulled him inside, shutting the door behind him. “Peter is hardly 'people' Stiles, for one he's a werewolf and for two he's crazy.”

Stiles' fidgeting was getting worse. She watched him take deep breaths and she realized he was trying to stave off a panic attack. “OK, so who else knows?”

“Derek knows, he was there when it happened. And I think Dr. Deaton suspects, if he doesn't already know.” She shrugged. “Probably the rest of his pack. Honestly I couldn't care less.”

He gaped at her, “he tried to kill you and you're not freaking out that he's back?”

She rubbed her temples to try and stave off the oncoming headache and resisted the urge to scream at him. “Stiles. I am going to say this in small words so your ADHD brain can understand it alright? Peter has been living in my brain for the past five and a half weeks. So excuse me if I don't find the fact that he's out of it terrifying.”

The next five minutes were full of only silence. If she knew this would get him to shut up maybe she should have more angry outbursts directed at him.

When he finally did speak up again, it was with pity in his eyes and she didn't fucking need any of it. “I didn't know.”

“Boo fucking hoo, Stiles. Did you ever wonder if it's because you've been to wrapped up in your own little world?”

She watched as his pity turned to anger. “Yeah, well maybe trying to stop Jackson from killing anymore people or being killed himself is more important than your little haunting.”

“Jackson?”

“You remember Jackson right? Your ex-boyfriend? He tried to become a werewolf but went all vengeance lizard instead. Scott and I have been trying to make sure that Derek and his pack don't kill him! And we're pretty sure something's going to go down at the game tomorrow so we've been working our asses off trying to come up with a plan where everybody who's relatively good lives.”

Without preamble she grabbed his ear, and with a tone that brooked no argument said. “Tell me everything.”

-

Peter stood in the shadows and listened to two of his betas tell Derek they were planning on leaving. He bit back a snarl when the blonde. . .when Erica, mentioned only recently turning sixteen. And Derek had called _him_ crazy. He'd heard the same howls as they had, but he wondered how they had missed the tinniness of the sound. He hoped they truly weren't that stupid.

When. . .Boyd; who smelled like old paper, reminding him of his father's study, said “we think we already have,” he decided it was time to reveal himself.

“You have, have you?”

Derek snarled and the two teen whirled around to face him.

“But do you know the proper gifts to bring an Alpha, do you know how to show submission and obedience?” He quickly turned his ire on Derek. “And you Derek, what _have_ you been teaching them? Leather jackets 101? Advanced lurking? Well?”

Derek bristled. “I taught them how to fight.”

He crooked an eyebrow. “Oh really? Have you taught them to use their senses? Have you shown them how to blend the wolf's instinct and the human's mind?” Derek didn't meet his eyes. “What use is learning to fight if they CAN'T USE THEIR ABILITIES TO THEIR FULL POTENTIAL?” He let the rage in, eyes going red as he partially shifted.

The two betas cowered while Derek's eyes flashed blue as he snarled. Peter grinned as the rage subsided. “You see children there's been a change of plans. Derek isn't your Alpha anymore, I am. And while your scared human brain might be telling you to leave _you will not_.”

Apparently direct commands got Erica's hackles up, because her eyes flared gold and the smell of anger filled the room. “Oh really?”

“Yes really. You will go home and stay there. You two may be part of my pack but you are both far too inexperienced to join the fray. I think we'd all rather avoid another Children's Crusade.”

Erica looked puzzled, but Boyd nodded and straightened. “And the game tomorrow night?”

Ah yes, lacrosse. He let himself have a moment of mourning for basketball in Beacon Hills, then shrugged. “You can go if you'd like. I'm not here to control your lives. Now if you'd please excuse us, Derek and I need to have a little heart to heart.”

-

His uncle smiled as Erica and Boyd scurried away. Derek sighed, “more gloating?”

Peter looked disappointed, though his scent said otherwise, and shook his head. “Bitterness doesn't suit you Derek.” He put a hand over his chest. “And your words wound me. I'm here to help you.”

Derek gave him a look of disbelief. “Why help me? I thought you loved this sort of chaos.”

“Oh I do.” He watched Peter's face grow hard. “But not at the expense of my pack, and deny it as much as you want but you are part of my pack just as much as those poor teens you seduced. Gerard and the Kanima must be stopped, and I know just how to do it.”

His head shot up. “How?”

Peter gave a slow smile. “What keeps us human Derek?”

He frowned as he watched his uncle pick up a mirror shard and inspect himself. “Our emotions. Our anchor.”

He barely caught the shard before it impaled his shoulder. “Do I have to spell it out for you Derek? Because I know you're smarter than this. Jackson's heart is turning to ice, and what warms the heart more than blood?”

The familiar riddle had him drowning in memories of better times, times he didn't want to remember.

_He sits next to his mother as she works on a quilt, the whir of the sewing machine is a comforting sound to his ears and he finds himself starting to nod off. His mother's laughter pulls him out of sleep. He looks up to see his parents kissing and he makes a face. When they break apart his father scoops him up and Derek cuddles into the warmth of his shoulder._

_“Would you like to hear a riddle Derek?”_

_Derek nods, he likes the strange nuggets of history and knowledge his father gives him._

_His father smiles, “This one was your grandfather's favorite. What warms the heart more than blood, yet turns it all to stone? What does no one understand and yet it's always known?”_

_He can feel his face scrunch up as he tries to think of the answer. Frustrated he gives up a few minutes later. “What's the answer dad?”_

_There's something sad in his father's smile as he answers. “It's. . .”_

A warm hand oh his shoulder pulled him back. Derek stared at Peter before answering, “Love.”

Peter's smile was bright and coupled with the memories it made his heart ache.

“And whom does Jackson love?”

“Lydia.” At her name an indescribable look passed over his uncle's face.

Peter nodded, “it all ends soon.”

-

Erica climbed out of Boyd's car but didn't shut the door. Her fellow packmate looked confused. “Erica?”

She drew herself up as tall as she could and looked him in the eye. “I don't care that we have a new Alpha that apparently wants to keep us safe. I'm leaving tomorrow, and try my luck with the other pack.”

Boyd gave her a solemn nod. “I wish you good luck.”

“Thanks,” she closed the door and went to her home for what she thought might be the last time. A part of her felt sad, this had been her life for sixteen years. But it was time to start a new life, again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've started to post part 2 of the Seasons-verse (1.5 really), so go read that too. (So reading order for the 2 parts is Cicurate, Perepeteia, etc.)


	4. Chapter 4

The field went dark and Lydia could almost _feel_ the rush of adrenaline that went through her. So while everyone else was screaming and panicking, she just started pushing her way down the stands.

When she reached the grass the lights came back on. And now everyone was panicking and _running_. She couldn't help but get caught up in the tide of people; pushing and battering her every which way. So it wasn't her fault she didn't notice the someone creeping up behind her until a gloved hand covered her lower face and an arm trapped her own against her body. Instinct had her struggling against him, at least she assumed it was a he, almost immediately when he began pulling her back towards the woods. Even as logic realized exactly what was on the cloth that had come with the glove on her face

Logic won and Lydia went limp, but it was too little too late. Her lungs were screaming for oxygen, and she tried, she tried so very hard to fight past the instinct. But body overcame mind and she inhaled.

As the world started to go dim a horrible chemistry pick-up line floated through her mind: _does this smell like chloroform to you?_

-

Lydia came to tied to a chair in a nearly dark room. For a moment she struggled, testing the bonds that held her arms and legs, but no dice. Her eyes had already begun to adjust to the low light and they began darting around for any clues as to where she was.

What they did see was what looked like two people hanging from the ceiling. She wondered if they were dead, but a rattle of chains came from over there a short while later, so that answered that question. After weighing the pros and cons she decided talking was worth the risk. “He. . .Hello?”

A pair of golden eyes opened and looked at her. “Lydia?”

The voice was hoarse, but recognizable. “Erica?”

Chains rattled again before her classmate answered. “Yeah. Boyd's here too.” Erica's voice became thick with tears. “But he's still out of it.”

“What happened?” Lydia knew her voice was probably frighteningly cool, but all she had control over right now was her body, and she needed all the control she could get.

“I was. . .I was leaving. Boyd and I had heard what we thought was another pack last night, and even though Peter said we'd be safe I decided to leave and join up with them.

“But it was a trap, and I got shot. And then. . .” Erica sobbed, but quickly gained control over herself again. “Then Boyd appeared and she kept shooting him. All he was trying to do was protect me and she just kept shooting him!”

Part of Lydia already knew the answer, but she needed confirmation. “Who Erica?”

“Allison.”

“So the Argents are. . .”

“Werewolf hunters? Yeah.” Erica gave a bitter laugh. “I'm supposed to be worried about boys and passing my driving test Lydia. Not dying.”

Lydia knew the feeling. “OK. So, while it might not have been right I can understand why they'd want you. But why me? I'm just a human.”

Before Erica could answer the screech of iron on iron filled the air. The room was flooded with light and as she blinked back tears a voice she was really starting to loathe answered.

“Because dear girl. If you go away there's nothing holding Jackson back.”

When her eyes finally adjusted to the light they soon fell on Gerard. Behind him were two goons, but icy fear filled her stomach when she saw who was between them.

“Stiles?” Her voice wavered.

Gerard smiled. “Let's send a message shall we?”

-

Peter watched as Scott betrayed Derek; part of him feels like a proud parent watching a child graduate, the rest was laughing uproariously at the fact that Scott still thought Derek was the Alpha. Not that Peter had done anything to dissuade him of the notion in the past few hours. And Derek was making a good show of it, struggling, fighting, and refusing to shift every step of the way.

But eventually Derek bit Gerard. The look of surprise on everyone's faces, but especially the old man's, when nothing happened was priceless.

And really what better time to finally step onto the stage?

“Well, well, well. Looks like the secret is finally out.” Everybody who wasn't unconscious, tied down, or currently possessed turned to look at him. “Though I'm disappointed that those of you not in the know didn't figure it out. Is it really that hard to look someone in the eye when you're fighting them?”

He could practically hear the crickets chirping.

Stunned audiences were the best. “So let's talk about how this is going to go down. Gerard, sorry to say it but you're going to die. Probably in a very horrifying and painful way, we'll see how the night goes.” He turned slightly. “Chris, as thanks for helping my pack you and Allison can leave,” he only let his gaze fall on Lydia for the briefest moment. But that moment was enough to see the terror on her face, though her scent told him just as much.

Anger bloomed in him, but he didn't let it show. “Oh, and you can take Lydia with you. And you, my pack of misfit children, well we're definitely going to have a talk.”

Gerard apparently didn't like his plan, which was a shame. “KILL THEM ALL!”

“I guess we're doing it the hard way,” Peter sighed. He shifted and quickly joined the fray.

-

Lydia struggled against her bonds as she watched the fight. Thanks to Gerard she knew she could help, but not like this. She struggled harder, needing to get to Jackson.

Then Stiles was there loosening her bonds, his face still bruised and bloodied from his beating. “Stiles. . .what?”

He gave a grin but she could see the glassy fragility in his eyes. “Couldn't let everyone else take all the glory could I?”

Finally free she stood up, for a moment she was unsure of she should run away or go forward. Old affection pulled her forward. “Jackson?”

And just like that the fight seemed to end, or like someone had hit pause, as all eyes turned to her. As if compelled Lydia kept walking forward, avoiding everyone not important right now as best she could. “Jackson.”

He tilted his head, as if confused by her. Her feet stopped when she finally reached him, but the rest of her didn't. She reached out and hugged him. “It's me Jackson. It's Lydia. I'm here.”

Jackson went limp in her arms, forcing her to kneel or else fall over. She kept holding on, even after he began to violently shake.

A sharp crack broke the moment and her head jerked up to see Gerard's prone body and Peter standing over it, looking disturbingly innocent.

Though the worst part of all was the fact that nobody seemed to care. No anger, outrage, or shock from the Argents, or even the wolves. It was like they'd all agreed the rabid dog had to be put down, the only question had been who would do it.

Worried that the same might be thought of Jackson she clutched him tighter. Not even caring about the small electrical shocks that kept jumping from his body to hers. Staring very pointedly at everyone she spoke. “Don't worry Jackson, you're safe now.”

Apparently nobody saw fit to argue with her, which she took as a good sign. That problem hopefully dealt with she looked back down at Jackson. He looked almost normal again, most of the lizard bits were gone, though a few patches of scales still remained.

Gingerly she reached out and touched his cheek. Jackson inhaled sharply and opened his eyes. They darted around frantically before settling on her. “Lydia?”

She gave a shaky laugh. “It's me. You're here, we're here. Everything's alright now.”

He gave her a tiny, but real, smile. “Good.” Then slumped against her after falling unconscious.

That seemed to break the spell around everyone else because the warehouse suddenly became a flurry of activity.

Peter and Derek went over to unchain Erica and Boyd's unconscious bodies. Stiles came over to her Scott checked up on Issac and Mr. Argent and Allison stood there, as if unsure what to do.

And then Mr. Argent was hugging Allison to him, like she was a life preserver, and she felt a twinge of sadness for them.

Stiles pulled her back to them by asking: “So is he OK?”

With brisk efficiency she checked his pulse, breathing, and temperature. She left her hand on his forehead and frowned. “I think he's alright, but his body temperature feels a little on the cool side.”

Derek was suddenly there in front of them and gently took Jackson from her, lying him on the floor. “It makes sense.”

She frowned and stared at Jackson like he'd become a really complex math problem. “You mean he's still that lizard thing?”

Peter surprised her by being the one who answered. “Yes Lydia, he is. The memory of your love was only enough to break the hold, to make Jackson his own master.” His lips twitched in a smile. “But he still has quite a ways to go before coming to terms with himself and his choices.”

Scott asked the question she was sure they were all wondering. “So what happens now?”

Peter's eyes glowed fire-red as he smiled. “We grow strong as a pack. We prepare for whatever will come next. We survive, _together_.”


	5. Chapter 5

She could barely hear her parents over her sobs. They were moving around, but they hadn't entered her room since she'd gone in after coming back from the hospital and answering the Police's questions. Lydia didn't know if she should hate them, or be grateful. Though she did feel proud of the fact she'd managed to hold herself together until now. Peter's possession had taught her at least that much.

A tapping at her window caught her attention and she looked up to see Peter, _speak of the devil and he shall arrive_ she thought bitterly, who looked angry and pained. Well at least the wolfsbane and mountain ash were doing their thing. For a moment she looked him in the eye, and then very deliberately she turned around and ignored him.

He started tapping again, and she pretended not to hear. When he finally spoke she could barely hear him through the glass. “Lydia let me in.”

At least she had the excuse that it would be too much work, and it would, to let him in. So she didn't answer.

For the next half an hour he kept at it though, and while part of her admired his persistence especially against the wolfsbane, the rest of her just wanted to be miserable alone.

So she got up, grabbed her Ipod and headphones, and went into her bathroom. She climbed into the tub and drowned out the world with loud, angry music.

But not even the music could drown out the memories.

_Erica and Boyd being tortured for no real reason, and being forced to watch._

_Gloved hands holding a long, thin knife coming closer and closer._

Lydia couldn't hear her sobs and gasps, but she felt them in the shaking of her body. Her cheeks were wet and her mouth tasted of salt.

She pulled her knees to her chest and just wanted this nightmare to go away.

-

When she woke up the next morning she felt cold, uncomfortable, and groggy. Her Ipod had died sometime in the night and she yanked her earbuds out. On shaky legs she climbed out of the tub and went back to her room. Relief rushed through her when she saw that Peter was no longer on the other side of her window. In all honesty she didn't even know why he'd come over last night, unless he felt some sort of weird obligation towards her for the resurrection thing.

She shrugged it off, she really didn't care one way or the other, and was just glad she didn't have to deal with him; hopefully he'd stay out of her life for good this time.

Pulling her comforter off her bed she felt glad that at least this time she'd have a day to compose herself before going back to school, her dad said she didn't have to go, but she would. And now she'd be coma _and_ 'idiot who went after angry lacrosse players' girl, if this kept up she'd be popular for all the wrong reasons.

After wrapping her comforter around her like a cloak she opened the door, resolute in the idea that she'd spend the whole day eating junk food and watching nostalgic TV. But that plan went down the toilet when she saw Peter curled up asleep right in front of her.

Her body froze, but her mind was a panicked rush. Had her parents seen him? What the fuck was he doing in her house? How the hell had he gotten in? And who the fuck did he think he was that he could do this to her?

As quietly as she could she pulled her comforter higher so none of it would touch him, stepped over him, turned around, closed her door, and tiptoed down the hall and stairs. She knew she should probably call someone, and bit back a hysterical giggle at the thought of calling Derek. _'Hi, Derek. It's me Lydia. Your uncle is asleep in my hallway, can you come pick him up?'_ Not that she even knew his number.

In the end she decided not to call anyone, because it would be a hell of a lot more satisfying to scream at him herself when he woke up.

-

Peter awoke with a start, not remembering where he was. Then last night began to filter back into his mind. _Him at her window. Wolfsbane and mountain ash, unable to get in, unwilling to run away. The ineffectual anger her tears roused in him. And curling up here, as close as he could get, not as close as he wanted, waiting for her to come out._ To know for himself that she was alright.

He inhaled. There was a new layer of her aconitum scent, she'd walked down the hall sometime in the past half hour judging by its strength. And she hadn't screamed when she came across him, strange. He listened to the house as he got up. The TV was on downstairs though he had no idea what Lydia was watching, a wrapper crinkled, she gave a snort of laughter in reaction to something.

Even though the wolf wanted to run down there Peter walked. He still felt a bit unsteady from all the pain he'd absorbed from his pack last night and rushing would tax his body more than he would like.

So getting to the den seemed to take forever. And when he got to the door he leaned against it, feeling more exhausted than he should've. Something on the TV screen exploded and for a moment Lydia looked disturbingly gleeful. A voice over started talking about the explosion and what it meant and Peter decided to make himself known. “Lydia?”

She looked away from the screen for a moment then looked back, clearly ignoring him. He didn't like it but he could go with it. “I just want to know if you're alright.”

Lydia gave a bitter laugh, than bit into her chocolate bar. Frustration rose in him. “It is quite easy to say if you are or arn't fine Lydia. Three words max.”

No response and he stared at her as her scent turned sulfur/indifference, and felt his own anger rising in response. He'd tolerated it once form her, but no more. She was made to feel, to care, to be. He didn't care if all he got was her ire and wrath, because anything would be better than this.

So he scooped her up and kissed her. Her lips felt soft and warm, tasting slightly of chocolate and artificial sugar. For a glorious moment she pushed back into the simple kiss. But reality quickly wrested her from instinct.

He bit back a smile when she bit his lip and pulled away. “Put me down Peter.” He put her down, his wolf howling for joy as pepper/anger flooded the room. She crooked a finger. “Lean down a little Peter.”

A heartbeat later he could see the slap coming, but he would let her have it and did his best not to tense up. Her hand cracked against his cheek and it actually hurt. He watched as she gave her and a shake. “Good to know Twilight got that wrong.”

She pointed a finger at the door. “Now get out of my house! Having Jackson screw me over was bad enough, what makes you think I'd let you do it too? My emotions are nobody's playthings, least of all yours.” He had to work hard to not let his own amused happiness show.

“I appreciate that you saved my life, I really do. But that doesn't give you the right to come over here like I'm one of your pack. I resurrected you, you saved me from dying at the hands of a crazy, geriatric werewolf hunter. I think it's safe to say we're even. NOW GET OUT OF MY FUCKING HOUSE! OR I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU AGAIN MYSELF!”

He left, not because she'd asked, but because if he'd stayed a second longer he would have fucked her right then and there.

-

Lydia made herself tea. She took the still brewing pot back into the den with her and continued to watch _Mythbusters_. Taking far too much satisfaction in imagining Peter taking the place of Buster.


	6. Chapter 6

School started up again, and for the most part Lydia managed to ignore the hushed whispers that seemed to follow her everywhere. Then again it was easier to do now that she didn't have a psychopath werewolf ghost in her head. And speaking of werewolves. . .

She watched as Erica and Issac approached her, something hidden behind their backs. She tapped her foot impatiently. “If you two don't hurry up with whatever it is you've got you're going to make me late for class.”

They hurried over.

Their faces were a mixture of embarrassment and nervous as they stood in front of her. She stuck out her hands. “Well? We might as well end this quickly for all of us.”

A bouquet of flowers appeared from behind them. “Peter told us to give them to you,” Erica, at least, was looking her in the eye as she spoke. “He said they were an apology for yesterday.”

If they had been roses, especially red ones, she would have laughed the two wolves into abject embarrassment. But instead she was faced with a colorful riot of tulips. She took them and stared at them, but only for a moment.

Then she marched over to the nearest trash can, dumped them in, and marched off. But only around the corner. She stood there until the warning bell rang. Peering back into the hallway she noticed it had quickly emptied.

Looking around to make sure no one saw her she practically ran back to the trash. Grabbing a yellow tulip from the top she snapped off most of the stem and put it in the back of her math textbook to be pressed flat. She looked around again before hurrying off to French.

-

A few days later Lydia got a package in the mail. She frowned as she picked it up, not remembering ordering anything in the past few days. Her frown grew when she check the shipper's address, _tea_?

As she took the package inside she wondered if it was another strange belated-birthday gift from her erstwhile mother. It wasn't unusual, and compared to some of the other things her mother had sent her tea was downright ordinary.

She snagged the box cutter from its drawer as she headed to the kitchen counter. Her step-mother looked up from the paper. “What's that then?”

Lydia shrugged, “tea. I think it's from June.” She cut through the tape and opened it. After removing a few of those plastic tubes of air they used for padding instead of peanuts she pulled out three bags of tea. “Egyptian chamomile, de-stress, and lavender chamomile.”

“Well those will come quite in handy during finals. Very thoughtful of your mother.” Which was big coming from Mary, the two women hated each other.

“Yeah. . .” But the more Lydia looked at them the more she was certain they weren't from her mother at all.

-

A few days later Allison finally approached her during lunch, looking wan and worn. Lydia held up a hand before her former friend spoke. “If you've come to apologize than you can just turn right back around and keep walking.”

Allison shook her head. “I just wanted you to know that I'm leaving soon. My dad and I we. . .” Lydia buried her sympathy deep. “We need to figure some things out together. So I wanted to give you back your stuff.”

She placed a large Macy's bag on the table and Lydia nodded. “Thanks.”

Allison replied with a tight smile, full of unspoken things, before walking off.

-

The next gift came on her windowsill, one morning she opened her curtains and there were two large bags of glow in the dark planets and stars sitting outside.

After retrieving them she was tempted to put them on her window to spell 'fuck you', but considering her window faced the street it wasn't the best of ideas.

So they went to lurk in the back of her closet. But the off white light somehow still managed to cast a barely-there glow in the night.

-

A week had passed and nothing new came for her, though for the past few days it seemed that everywhere she'd looked she'd seen one of Peter's pack lurking about.

Though she'd only notice it after seeing Erica in a store that Lydia liked to frequent, but was all wrong for Erica's current bombshell clothing choices.

After that she noticed them everywhere.

She 'ran into' Boyd and his younger sisters at the grocery store. Scott had shyly asked her if she could tutor him in the classes he was failing. Stiles sat next to her more, and even started initiating conversations between them, though more often than not she shut him down as soon as he'd begun. Erica asked her for fashion advice, though she didn't know why, it wasn't like Erica actually listened to any of it. Issac kind of just lurked around, as if uncertain of what to do; and she would not feel bad for him.

And every day during lunch they had incrementally crept closer to her seat at her table until one day they surrounded her and became the only other people who sat with her. She went so far as to change tables, but the same thing happened. Feeling too damn tired to play musical tables for the rest of her high school career she just accepted it and moved on. But until she'd nearly shouted at them to chill the fuck out they'd given her headache every time.

Lydia didn't know whether she hated or liked their company. Actually she hated the fact that they were _everywhere_ , it made her feel like the only safe place was her house. But she liked the fact that they were _there_ if she wanted or needed them, not that she ever would; but they acted as a sort of buffer against the outrageous gossip, some went so far as to claim she'd been cursed by a gypsy, so at least during the daytime she felt stronger.

-

_Innumerable hands held her down. She tried to move but even her fingers were trapped. Panic began to rise in her. No, no, no._

_Innumerable hands turn to a single pair of scaled hands that held her as she struggles to get away. But no matter how hard she tries Gerard and the knife keep coming closer. Gerard smiles, and it's anything but comforting. “Don't worry dear, I'll make it as painless as possible.”_

_She screams._

_CRACK._

-

But she probably shouldn't have told Stiles about the nightmares.

-

Because soon after she'd told him the next gift came.

Another package, this one decidedly larger than the last. But unlike the last the shipper's address didn't leave her confused it just left her stunned. _FAO Schwarz_?!

Clutching the package she raced up the stairs; no easy way to explain this one to her parents. In the safety of her room she pulled out a nail file and began sawing through the packing tape. It took her longer than she would have liked; impatience gnawing at her, making her saw faster.

But when she finished decimating the tape apprehension started taking over the impatience. She stood and stared, not knowing whether to open it or throw it in the closet with the planets and stars.

When she realized her train of thought she froze, upbraiding herself for succumbing to Lydia-the-meek. With new resolve she pulled open the flaps and looked into the box.

Three stuffed animals stared lifelessly back. A pig, small enough to fit in one hand; Tigger, done in the original style and irresistibly fuzzy; and a lion, child-like and easily the largest of the three. She sat down on her bed next to the box as she tried to order the chaotic mess her mind had become.

How the hell was she supposed to respond to this? The flowers she'd been able to toss, ignoring the stars and planets was. . .easy, it wasn't like he could come into her house to see if she'd used the tea, and she barely tolerated the companionship; though she had no idea whether he'd been the one to think that gift up or if it had been solely the pack's doing.

But these, these weren't trivial things she could laugh off as just some weird thing from the man who had lived in her head for five and a half weeks. These were something more, she just didn't know if she wanted to know what that more was.

There was a full moon that night, and she stared at it as if it held all the answers.

-

After the stuffed animals, which she'd shoved under her bed still in the box, Lydia decided to start doing her own research, no longer content to just exist in this new world. During school she grilled Stiles for every bit of info he had, giving her a good jumping off point.

She finally asked Mr. Harris about using the senior chem lab and with the carrot of taking over some of his tutoring, with finals coming up in a few weeks, he easily agreed.

Whenever she got truly stymied she'd go to Deaton, and while he never answered all of her questions he never lied to her. She tried to avoid going there as much as possible though, running into Scott and/or Issac wasn't really worth what little information Deaton would give her.

She absolutely refused to go to Peter, at least not until she was well and ready.

At least figuring out what was fact and what was fiction when it came to werewolves was actually a challenge.

Though she'd originally refused to touch werewolves and sex, she'd been forced into it by her own findings. Because if she was right then she needed to know what Peter would expect of her; she would not go into a relationship like that blind.

But at least stuffed animals and tea beat dead rabbits in the gift department.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it for Cicurate for the time being, though Perepeteia will still be going.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh, sorry for taking so long?

When her father had asked her what she was doing she only half lied and told him “trying on swimsuits.”

Only half a lie because she actually was trying on swimsuits; cute one-pieces that looked good on her were in short supply though, so it didn't take long. But it got her dad out of the house.

Only half a truth because she was also plotting a foray into werewolf politics.

So now she was lounging in a floating chair and enjoying the late May sun with a smoothie, contemplating the 'how's of werewolves; if she played her cards right she could get the Fields and the Nobel, physiology/medicine, before she turned twenty-five, take that Lawrence Bragg.

She frowned when she heard the creak of the back gate, great the puppy squad again. But found she felt too languorous to paddle herself around to see which of them it actually was. Which considering how much of a horror movie her life was currently probably wasn't the best idea. For all she knew whoever entered her backyard was regular human evil like Gerard had been. She managed not to shudder. “I have pepper-aconitum spray and I'm not afraid to use it.” Of course she didn't actually have it on her person, but whoever was behind her didn't know that.

A familiar masculine chuckle answered. She took an extra loud slurp of her smoothie just to annoy him. Peter apparently was feeling magnanimous because she could hear his footsteps as he walked around the pool. When they were finally face to face, relatively speaking, he smiled. “You look as lovely as ever Lydia.”

She took another slurp, and glared at him over her sunglasses. “No thanks to you.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

That got a raised eyebrow. “I had a cute bikini all pick out and then you had to go and attack me. Scars don't exactly bring the sort of attention I want.”

“You could always tell them it was the one who got away.”

She gave a snort of amusement. “And yet here you are.”

That brought the chuckle again. “The one who bit back then?”

“You know some scientists think sexual cannibalism happens because the female finds the male lacking in the mate department.” She kind of liked not having to pretend she was unintelligent.

He sat on the pool edge. “Really now?”

She nodded and pointed a recently pedicured foot at him. “And I know how to deal with a body so it won't be found. Not even by a werewolf.” Though she's pretty sure Derek would thank her if Peter died again.

“And why, dear Lydia, are you telling me all of this?”

Finishing off her smoothie she shrugged. A flash of pettiness had her throwing her cup at Peter. The bastard didn't even flinch when he caught it. “Maybe because I'm sick and tired of your puppy squad following me around everywhere gushing about how 'great it is to be part of your pack',” she gave an exaggerated flutter of her eyelashes. “Maybe the next time they do it they won't come back.”

A small part of her couldn't believe she was talking to him like this. He was a monster and she was just a measly human. The rest of her reminded Lydia-the-meek that this was just like the social ladder of school and that she is beautiful, intelligent, and more than willing to climb over bodies to get what she wanted. Though in school they don't kill you if you screw up. “Maybe I'll send you a heart,” she arched an eyebrow. “I think you're crazy enough to appreciate it.”

Silence fell between them, but only for a moment, and then Peter threw his head back and laughed.

And before she could register anything else he was in the pool and scooping her out of her chair. She shrieked, more in displeasure than actual fear, only to be cut off by a kiss.

And, ohh, it felt very nice.

When he finally pulled away, it was only to nestle his face against her neck. She could faintly feel his breaths and she found herself unintentionally breathing with him. Compared to him the pool was a bit on the chilly side and she nestled closer. “I quite like your viciousness. It does wonderfully disturbing things to me.”

Now she was the one laughing, because only Peter would consider that a compliment. When her laughter subsided the only sound that remained was the sloshing of the pool. As they floated Lydia was surprised at how peaceful she felt.

A few minutes later she felt his teeth nip at her ear. Her breath hitched and for a moment she was certain that all her hard-won research was false and that she'd read the whole situation between them wrong. But her resolve quickly returned and before it could disappear again she retaliated: she leaned in and bit his neck hard enough to feel his skin give a little.

The sound that Peter made was more wolf than man and probably shouldn't have sparked a curl of warmth in her. He twisted a little and she twisted with him refusing to let go; even when the coppery tang of blood filled her mouth. Eventually his struggle subsided and she smiled against his skin before finally letting go.

Her smile remained when she realized his red eyes were watching her tongue clean the blood off her teeth. “No bites.”

His smile was slightly condescending. “Oh really?”

He leaned in, teeth Alpha sharp, and she paddled back a little. Baring her own blunt human teeth as she did so.

Peter didn't swim toward her and she decided to reward his good behavior. “No bites unless I say so,” she amended.

Apparently that appeased his wolf because he inclined his head slightly, she could almost see his mind working as he reassessed her, again. “Anything else?”

She paddled closer again, close enough that he could grab her if he wanted to. “I want some alone time from you and the puppy squad every once in a while.” She held up a finger to forestall his protests. “I'm not helpless anymore Peter, I think I can handle being alone for a few hours every few days.”

“Ah yes, your pepper-aconitum spray. And where is it exactly?”

Lydia flushed. “Up in my room.”

He clucked his tongue and snagged her wrist. “Hardly much use to you up there. Though I am curious to know where you got it.”

She gave him a look. “Why? So you can terrorize them into stopping? I'll have you know I made it myself.”

He looked suitably impressed and she basked in it. “And how, dear Lydia, did you manage that?”

“I bribed Mr. Harris. He let me use the senior chem lab, no questions asked, and I took over his freshmen tutoring sessions for two weeks.” She made a face of disgust. “Freshmen are horrible. But at least they're in such fear/ awe of me that they conveniently forget to mention to their friends who's tutoring them. And yet I can still put it on my college applications.”

Peter laughed again as he pulled her against him. “You are a devious and incorrigible woman.”

Lydia could feel her ego preening. Though it took a low blow when she glanced at his neck and saw that her bite had almost disappeared.

Peter somehow seemed to catch her train of thought. “Sadly my dear I am not you. Though I don't mind the fact that you'll just have to keep biting me.”

Nestled that close to him she could tell how much he didn't mind. And that reminded her of another rule. “And no actual sex.”

Peter snarled.

She rolled her eyes. “I'd rather not have the police knocking down your door Peter. So nothing that requires a condom.”

Peter's anger abruptly vanished. With a leer he swam them towards the pool edge and she had no choice but to hold on.

When they reached the edge he set her one it. “So then, my dear, I could do this?”

With that as her only warning his fingers started stroking and teasing her through the fabric of her swimsuit. She let out an abortive whimper. “Yeeeesss.”

Her fingers dug into the sopping fabric of his shirt as one of his slipped into her suit.

And she was so very, very close when he stopped. She opened her mouth to either wail in protest or rip him a new one but his hand quickly covered it. “Your dear father's home.”

She very quickly shut her mouth and bit back her disappointment as she watched him pull himself out of the pool. Though he surprised her by leaning down to give her a swift kiss before disappearing out the back gate.

Lydia was still in a bit of a daze when her father came out.

-

Lydia didn't know if she'd call what was going on between her and Peter 'dating'. It had been only a week and a half after the pool confrontation and she'd only seen him once since and that was completely by accident, though it had quickly turned into some weird kiss-fight. But they were together in their own fashion now, and it meant she was required to come to pack meetings.

As she drove into the clearing she stared at the changes a few months had brought to the Hale house. The outside looked like it had been completely rebuilt, though the roof appeared only half done, and had been painted a buttery-yellow with dark green trim.

The smell of sawdust, drywall, and paint greeted her as she entered the foyer.

She relished their surprise when she came into the living room. Her heels clicking against the newly polished floors as she entered the room and took a seat. Not by Peter on the couch, who had Isaac, Erica, and Jackson curled against him, but in an overstuffed armchair opposite him. Peter raised an eyebrow but said nothing. If she was going to be with werewolves it would be on her own terms as herself, and not as Peter's whatever.

Jackson looked at her with disdain. “What, you too good to sit with us?”

She did not grin when Peter cuffed him, but she did give him a sharp smile. “Maybe I just don't want to cuddle up with the thing that tried to kill me.”

Peter gave her an approving smile, while Erica and Isaac sniggered.

Jackson's insulted expression was priceless. “She's not even part of our pack and you're going to let her insult us like that?”

Lydia resisted the urge to tell him that technically he wasn't part of the wolf pack either. Peter looked her straight in the eye when he answered. “Lydia has always been a part of our pack, but even if she were not; yes Jackson, I would let her insult you like that.”

Erica and Isaac were now howling with laughter. When Boyd entered a few moments later he was smiling, and she wondered how much of their conversation he had overheard. It was intriguing to watch as he went over the couch and unceremoniously shoved Isaac off, taking his spot next to Erica. Isaac gave a playful lunge, but Boyd just ignored him. With an annoyed huff Isaac crawled over to her and rested his head against her knee.

Lydia would never admit that she froze, only that she hesitated; because having a boy you hardly knew cuddling up to you was not normal, even if he was a werewolf. Haltingly her left hand moved to his hair and gave it a ruffle; he snuggled closer.

Logically she'd know there'd be touching. It was a fast and easy way to form emotional bonds, even between humans. She just hadn't expected it to start this soon.

Scott was the next to arrive; he gave a start when he saw her, but he otherwise didn't seem surprised. He surprised her though by walking over to her and curling up next to Isaac. She wondered if it was because he and Isaac had a thing, though Isaac was an interesting choice of rebound, or if she and Isaac were just the lesser of two cuddling evils.

Looking at Peter she saw he was smiling, with a look in his eyes that screamed 'I told you so.'

Derek and Stiles finally entered the room a few minutes later. Stiles stood and gaped at her, Derek just lurked by the door.

“Good. Now that we're all here we can begin.” Peter stood. “I hope you brought grubby clothes Lydia. We're doing hide and seek today.”

Stiles groaned.

-

Lydia was starting to hate hide and seek as Peter once more scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder. And she would not act like some sort of cave-woman and beat at his back. Instead she just crossed her arms and glowered the whole way back to the house.

She knew what Peter was doing of course. Though she was pretty sure he didn't have to be this obvious when marking his claim for the rest of the pack to see. Logically she knew that without biting this was the next best thing. The least he could do was ask her.

When he finally set her down, after, she was certain, everyone had seen his hand on her ass, she glared up at him. “You are not doing that again.”

Peter apparently found her anger amusing if his smile was anything to go by. “Why ever not dear?”

“Because it is infantile and idiotic. You want to stake your claim, fine. But that doesn't mean you get to go around acting all cave-man, 'woman mine'.” She wished she had her heels on, she'd always thought she was more threatening in them. “Next time you want to do something, ask me. It's not just you in a relationship with me Peter, I'm in a relationship with you too.”

With as much aplomb as she could muster she spun on her heel and marched back into the house. Biting back a giggle when she saw everyone else's stunned expressions. Even Derek looked like he'd been hit with a two-by-four.

Once inside she headed to the kitchen, intent on making lunch.

-

Peter stopped her as she started to leave. After their 'argument' he'd been thoughtfully quiet all throughout lunch. But apparently he'd come to a decision of some sort. “These are for you.”

Gingerly she took the bag from him and glanced in to see it full of men's shirts. “Peter?”

“Just wear them, please?”

She nodded, not only because he'd asked, but because she wanted to wear his clothes and smell like him. With a smile she pulled him down by the shirt and gave him a kiss. She would have kept it up for hours, but Stiles broke them apart with a sound of disgust. “Dear God, you could warn a guy before you two get disturbingly affectionate.”

Lydia flipped him off and went back to kissing Peter.

-

From there the rest of the pack meetings in June quickly turned into study sessions, with her and Boyd presiding. Or at least Boyd presided over most of them; she'd been saddled with the task of putting Scott through the study wringer. And as finals approached she was sure that she'd bite Scott's head off if he wasn't Scott.

Then finals were upon them and everything fell into a vortex of chaos. Much bitching and moaning and headaches were had. And it was funny to see Peter and Derek play moral support; well Derek played moral support, kind of; Peter would just this contented smile on his face as everyone sat around the table, or curled up in a puppy pile, and griped and groaned about what they had to take tomorrow.

Like always as soon as they'd begun, finals were over. Much to the student body's surprise Lydia did not throw her usual end of the year bash. Instead opting to spend Wednesday night at the Hale house with the pack.

And then it was Saturday and everyone cheered Boyd on as he graduated valedictorian.

That night the sky was dark with the grumblings of the first summer storm. Not that anyone seemed to care as they all tumbled and chased each other through the woods.


	8. Chapter 8

“Derek and I are leaving for a few days.”

The rest of the pack stared at him, a cacophony of scents filling the room. Scott finally asked the question on everyone's mind. “Why?”

Even Peter felt surprise when Derek answered first. “We don't want anything like the Argents happening again. So we're going to visit my mother's pack to try and renew the treaty we used to have.”

Peter nodded, “we won't be going far. Only to Sisters in Oregon. If there's a true emergency you can call us. If there are any other problems feel free to bring them to Lydia.”

She played indignant to the hilt, but he could smell pleased/wine coming off her in waves. “What?!”

He smiled, “consider it leadership practice.”

That seemed to placate her, but she still glowered at him. He'd make it up to her later. “I know it's short notice but we'll be leaving in about an hour. And we'll be back in about a week, hopefully less. I hope you all can behave yourselves at least that long.”

There was quite a bit of not meeting his eyes, but he'd let that be Lydia's problem. It would be good for her to finally get practice leading the pack on her own. He desperately prayed she would never need to lead without him at her side, but it didn't hurt to plan for the worst.

-

Isaac awoke to the smell of pancakes. Stumbling down the stairs he frowned as he spotted two suitcases. He inhaled, and blinked in surprised when he smelled aconitum. He entered the kitchen. “Lydia?”

She spun around and smiled. “Morning Isaac.”

“What are you doing here?” He walked around her to pour himself some coffee.

For the first time in his life he saw Lydia Martin get nervous. She shuffled her feet and looked at the spatula in her hand as if it held all of life's secrets. “I just. . .waking up in a lonely house is never fun.”

He stared. “You do have a heart.”

She waved her spatula in a supposedly threatening manner. “If you swear not to tell anyone I'll give you scalp massages for the rest of your life.”

And really who could say no to that? “My lips are sealed.”

Lydia went back to the pancakes. “Well at least someone appreciates my magic hands.”

A moment of awkward silence fell between them. “You never heard those words from me.”

He grinned, even though she couldn't see it. “What'll I get this time?”

He watched her load up a plate. “The sour cherry pancakes I was going to give you anyways.”

Isaac drooled a little, “you drive a hard bargain.”

She started another batch.

Halfway through his stack he remembered the suitcases. “So are you staying, or just stopping by on your way somewhere else?”

Her feet shuffled again. “I felt like a change of scenery.”

Not a complete truth, but he'd let her have it. “Uh, you do remember that none of the guest rooms have beds yet right.”

She gave a look that would have sent humans scurrying for cover. “Yes Isaac, I remember. I'll be staying in Peter's room.”

He gave a jaunty salute, “yes, ma'm Mrs. Alpha ma'm.”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “Just finish your freaking pancakes.”

-

Lydia had long ago learned that when she had days when she didn't want to be her people-person self that she should indulge them. Otherwise it would become a people hating week. And while Jackson might have called it PMS she knew that wasn't it because PMS didn't actually exist.

So clad only in one of Peter's shirts, she'd 'forgotten' pajamas and had taken a 'fresh' shirt from the hamper; she went to the kitchen and started making herself a pot of coffee. Then went to the den to set up a day of biting off the heads of all the stupid people in sci-fi movies. On her way back to the kitchen she ducked into Peter's study and snagged a bottle of Pendelton whiskey from the cabinet.

Once more in the kitchen she grabbed a mug and grabbed as many snack foods as she could carry. Then back to the den to drop everything off and arrange it the way she wanted it. And when the coffee finally finished she made her final trip to the kitchen to grab the pot.

About twenty minutes in to Total Recall Isaac stumbled in. She was sure that if he'd said anything she would have started screaming at him. But he remained completely silent and just curled up next to her resting his head on her thigh. She would have found it creepy if it wasn't so comforting. She'd only remember he was there when he laughed at one of her lambastings or took some of her snack food, he wisely didn't touch the whiskey; even though she was sure it wouldn't do much for him.

Two movies later Erica appeared. Lydia let her stay because she'd brought chocolate and made hilarious off-color jokes. Also she was a fantastic cuddler, probably because of her boobs.

So she managed to make it through the day without even hurting someone; the last time she'd had a day like this she'd actually accidentally knocked Jackson out. She hadn't even cared enough to call 911, she'd just left him comatose in the foyer while she went about her business.

By early evening she felt like enough of a human being that she made the two wolves dinner to thank them. Though apparently she wasn't the only one who'd needed cuddles because the two of them crawled into bed alongside her. Which she didn't think she'd ever get used to.

-

The next afternoon Stiles and Scott came over with a barbeque and an obscene amount of hamburger.

“First barbeque of the summer!” Scott crowed. “You can't say no to that.”

Surprisingly she found that he was right and half an hour later everything smelled of cooked meat and vegetables, and the rest of the pack had arrived; even Jackson had come. Stiles manned the grill while she did odds and ends: finding paper plates, 'refereeing' a game of what she thought was touch football, making sure no one touched the stereo and her Ipod currently blasting her summer playlist, things like that.

Now she was just sitting on the porch sipping her lemonade and watching whichever game the pack had been playing devolve into a giant free for all.

It was just as amusing to watch them freeze then suddenly burst back into a flurry of activity when Stiles announced dinner was ready.

And let it never be said that Lydia didn't know to appreciate a good thing when she had it.

-

Lydia woke to warm hands on her waist. She blinked sleepily at Peter who gave her a wicked grin. “Well, well, well. I do believe there is someone sleeping in my bed.”

“You're not a bear Peter,” she grumbled, it was far too early for this.

He moved so he was crouched above her and leaned down. His breath came hot and slightly ticklish over her ear. “Maybe Goldilocks should be punished.” He gave her jaw a brief lick and she gave a small sigh.

She could feel a hand begin to unbutton her sleep shirt. “I mean, she's wrapped up so pretty like.” He nipped the spot he'd licked. “How could I resist?”

Before she could answer he moved down to nibble on her shoulder. Her breath hitched and shuddered out as he began to gently bite a trail down to the valley between her breasts.

“Peeeter.”

He looked up as he nuzzled her breasts. “Yes my dear?”

She glared at his innocent look, wove her fingers into his hair, and pulled. “Stop teasing!”

He licked her nipple and the rest of her breath left in a hiss. “Like that?”

“Yeeess.”

“Mmmm, I love it when you smell like this.”

“Like what?” She gasped out as he renewed his assault.

“Like aconitum, cinnamon, and a hint of pepper.”

His goatee tickled as he moved down her stomach, “You make me. . .” She laughed. “You make me sound like a wine.”

Peter grinned up at her. “Well I certainly savor you like one.”

He mouthed at a hip bone, leaving little marks with his teeth. She bit back a snarl when he moved back up, but when she felt the scrape of his wolf-teeth against her stomach she mewled and bucked up.

Peter gave a dark chuckle. “Shall I bite you Lydia dear? I've been oh so patient and understanding of your rules.”

She moaned as they scraped lower this time. In retaliation she yanked on his hair. “No teasing!” She managed to repeat.

He dipped a little lower and his tongue darted out to stroke her clit. “Is that a yes, my dear?”

Frustration built in her when he stopped. “Yes! It's a yes! Now shut up and fuck me.”

The smile he gave her was extremely toothy. “As you wish.”

Said teeth left small furrows in her thigh as he moved back to her clit.

He gave a broad lick to her slit and she moaned, her legs falling open to give him better access. He gave a chuckle at that and it rumbled through her. Her body arched, trying to catch more of the sensation.

Instead she got the feeling of his teeth digging in slightly on either side of her clit, and she wailed.

The evil bastard pulled away right before she was about to climax. Only to return a few heartbeats later and start again.

By the time she finally did orgasm, she'd lost count of how many near misses he'd given her. Only that it had been more than she usually tolerated, and that she would get him back somehow.

She gave a soft moan as he gave her one final lick. For a minute or so there was only the sounds of their breathing. She was pretty sure she should feel embarrassment of some sort, she and Peter weren't alone in the house, but she was too sated to do much more than lie there, for now at least.

He moved up a little so he was resting his head on her stomach, and her hands in his hair turned to petting.

He gave a contented rumble that vibrated through her making her tingle. And as they lay there an evil thought began forming in her head. She gave his hair a gentle tug. “Roll over.”

The look he gave her nearly made her burst out laughing. “I am not a dog.”

He belied that statement by doing as she'd asked. She grinned and rolled with him so she was now the one on top. “Could've fooled me.”

She forestalled any further denials by kissing him and taking her sweet time with it. As she moved down to his jaw his hands rose up to cup her breasts. She quickly swatted them away and waggled a finger at him. “Ah, ah.” She bit back an evil grin at his pout and did up a few of the shirt's buttons.

Peter arched an eyebrow. “What are you planning?”

“What makes you think I'm planning anything?” She leaned down to his neck and began nipping and sucking.

“Just an, ahhhh, hunch.”

She didn't deign that with a response, just redoubled her attack her hands making quick work of unbuttoning his shirt.

As she worked her way down she felt the familiar frustration of watching her bites and hickeys disappearing right in front of her eyes. It just wasn't fucking fair. Though Peter's grunts when she did something particularly clever nearly made up for it.

Lydia looked up to see that he'd started to get that blissed out look on his face. With one final lick to his stomach she stood up and got off of the bed. Bliss turned to confusion and she had to bite her lip to stop her smile.

Before he could do anything she bolted from the room. She gave a giggle shriek as she raced down the stairs. Instead of going out the front she spun around and headed to the back door. Peter had apparently caught on and she could hear him thunder down the stairs.

“Catch me if you can,” she called out slyly as she left the house and ran into the forest.


	9. Chapter 9

Trying to calm down a freaking out Stiles seemed to be the beginning of a habitual pattern. One that always ended in cuddling and Ben & Jerry's. Which meant it was never a complete bother, but getting to the end always felt too arduous.

So she was doing her nails while Stiles paced his room postulating all the ways tomorrow's upcoming meeting could go wrong.

“I mean the only one of our parents to know everything is Scott's mom and that happened by complete accident. It feels like we've got so many freaking secrets that no one in their right mind should trust us.”

Oh yeah, she could see her parents finding out everything now: 'hey mom and dad this is my kind-of sort-of boyfriend Peter, don't ask it's complicated. Sure he's twenty-four years my senior.' Her dad would wince. 'But he did kill a guy to save my life, so I think he really likes me. He's also a werewolf. And he's filthy fucking rich.' Which, she realized, would make him at least 'acceptable' in Mary's book.

She gave a snort of laughter and Stiles looked up. “Are we that screwed?”

“What? Oh,” she shook her head. “No. I just realized that my step-mother is a lot like Mrs. Bennent.”

Stiles gave her a look. “Ookaay. Now can we go back to focusing on our werewolves politics problem?”

She rolled her eyes. “There is no problem Stiles. They come over to meet the pack; we have lunch; the wolves play a few games of capture the flag, or hide and seek, or something else while we humans sit on the porch and drink and watch; the family bond is renewed and thus so is the treaty; and everybody leaves happy.”

She watched him run his hands through his non-existent hair. “It's the meeting the pack part that I'm worried about.”

Lydia went back to buffing her nails. “Why? Because no one except Peter is over the age of twenty-five?”

“Well that, and the fact that we're not exactly the most polite and mature group of people.”

She gave him a look, “speak for yourself.”

Stiles gave her a look, “says Miss Bossy-pants.”

Lydia huffed and rolled her eyes again. “What are you ten? It'll be fine! If worse comes to worst we'll throw Isaac and Scott at them and the Reids will be so overwhelmed by their saccharine cuteness that they won't remember anything else.” She got up. “Now come on, I've been craving Coffee Caramel Buzz for days. But I'm paying this time.”

He nodded, though she was certain he'd try and pay for everything again. She still wasn't certain how he'd done it the last time when he'd never left her sight. She'd just have to keep a closer eye on him this time.

-

Eleven thirty came around and Lydia felt restless. On a whim she decided to do chores she didn't actually have to do. Hooking up her Ipod she went to the kitchen to do dishes.

She quickly rolled up the sleeves of her sleep shirt; currently she owned about half of Peter's shirts, or at least that's what it felt like, and they'd all quickly been converted into pajamas. She was glad her parents had left earlier in the week for a summer vacation of their own, or as they'd put it a 'second honeymoon'. It meant there was no one to get angry over her singing and dancing. Plucking dishes out of the dishwasher she poured some hand soap on them and began washing.

“Well Sampson was a mighty good man  
Strongest in his day  
Then along came Delilah and clipped his wig  
And it looks like you took me the same old way  
So I'm nervous. . .”

Warm hands grabbed her hips. “While I do love you Lydia dear, and the song is quite fitting, your singing leaves a bit to be desired.”

She froze, not because of Peter's sudden appearance, a frequent occurrence recently, but because he somehow managed to say 'love'. She whirled around to find him grinning. “Is it really that shocking for you to hear me say it?”

She arched an eyebrow, “says the psychopath.”

He clucked his tongue at her and held a hand to his heart. “Oh Lydia you wound my poor heart.”

Her smile was bright and cutting, “oh good. I've always wanted to do that.”

He chuckled and scooped her up to set on the granite counter. She bit back a sigh when he buried her face in her neck. When she felt the blunt scrape of his teeth though she let loose the next one. “Peter,” she warned.

“Lydia,” he growled, clearly growing impatient with all her rules. “Even with my scent all over you all the unattached wolves will be sniffing around you at the meeting tomorrow, and I don't think I could control myself. Please, I just want you safe.”

She ran her fingers through his hair as she mulled it over. She knew she was being hypocritical; if their situation were reversed she'd be insisting the same thing Peter was, not to protect him but to show those wolf bitches that he was hers!

During the school months the no bite rule was practical. No bites meant no one thought she was in a relationship, which meant questions. But it was summer now, her parents didn't seem to care one way or the other, and there was a part of her that wanted those bites and hickeys she couldn't have before. She sighed again. “Fine, but I get to do the same to you tomorrow.”

She felt him smile. “Mmm, I wouldn't have it any other way my dear.” He kissed her clavicle. “Were you planning on wearing anything special tomorrow?”

She rolled her eyes and mentally sorted through her closet. “A purple one shoulder dress.”

He kissed her throat, “which side?”

“Left.”

He moved over to her right and nosed the crook of her neck. “I'll be wearing jewelry,” she gasped out.

His mouth crept up to her jaw and she gave a huff of laughter. “Jesus, Peter. You don't have to be so picky.”

“Ah, but your sense of style is impeccable. I would hate to ruin it with an ill placed mark.”

She didn't know whether that was endearing, or just plain amusing. She opened her mouth to speak, but lost her train of thought when she felt his teeth sharpen.

And when he finally bit down her breath rushed out in a shuddering gasp. His rumble of approval made her squirm and she could feel his lips turn up in a smile.

He soon let go and pulled back a little, as if to admire his handy work. She could feel blood beginning to seep from the bite and with it came the pain. He winced at her hiss and quickly disentangled himself from her. “Under the sink,” she told him; barely biting back her tears.

He soon returned with the first aid kit. Thankfully the pain was already beginning to lessen, and it vanished completely when Peter leaned in and began lapping up her blood.

After he attached some gauze he stepped close again and just held her. “Are you nervous about tomorrow?”

She shrugged, “a little.”

He began rubbing comforting circles on her back. “Not that I'm all for a little nerves every now and then, but you need to remember you're not the first human Alpha the Reids will have met, they know their limits.”

“Try telling that to my lizard-brain.”

Peter laughed, “I'd rather you not bring Jackson into this my dear.”

Which got her laughing too, though it quickly turned into a shriek of surprise when Peter scooped her up and started carrying her to her room.

He gave her a wonderfully lazy kiss and he laid her on her bed. When he broke off she tried to pull him back for another but he was too fast. “I shall see you tomorrow Lydia.”

“Good night Peter,” she said to the now empty room. Nestling under her covers she closed her eyes and soon fell into sleep.

-

Lydia arrived at the house around nine to find it in its usual chaos. Stiles, with enforcement from Derek, had apparently banned everyone else from the kitchen. Not that she could blame him; everyone else's cooking skills, save her own, bordered on atrocious. She'd seen Boyd and Scott tussling in the front yard; it had been kind of funny to see them both pause as she walked up, as if fighting in front of her was bad. Erica hadn't arrived yet and Jackson hadn't been invited, per the fact he was still a lizard. She found Isaac in the den curled up with a book, she gave him a hair ruffle before heading upstairs to find Peter.

They met in the hall and without preamble he scooped her up. “Peter!”

He smiled at her as they went down the stairs. “You look divine Lydia.”

She rolled her eyes. “What happened now?”

He gave her his 'I have no idea what you are talking about, everything's fine and I am innocent face', “what ever do you mean?”

Lydia sighed, “does it involve dead bodies?” She could hear Isaac try and stifle his laughter.

Peter looked aghast. “No.”

She buried her face in his neck, “then we can deal with it later.” She gave him a lipstick hickey on his chin and pulled away smiling.

“There's been a change of plans and the Reids will be here in half an hour.”

She gave him a flat look, “you have got to be fucking kidding me?”

Peter gave a small sigh, “I wish you wouldn't curse, and no I am not kidding.”

“Put me down.”

He put her down.

With a saccharine smile she called out, “Isaac, Scott, Boyd, come here please.”

The three boys appeared so quickly she almost burst out laughing. Scott apparently felt particularly brave today because he was the first to speak up. “Yeah Lydia?”

She tapped her foot twice. “If we are having guest over in half an hour why is the house still a mess?”

Boyd seemed to have caught Scott's courage. “Because no one's cleaned in the past few days?”

“You know what. I think you three should do that right now.”

The three boys scattered just as quickly as they had appeared. She didn't spare them a second thought as she marched to the kitchen. Derek blocked her way in but it didn't matter. Shouting around him worked just as well. “Stiles I hope to God you've been cleaning up after yourself!”

She heard a clatter of pots that told her that Stiles had not been cleaning up at all. She turned her smile on Derek. “I think you'd better help him.”

Derek glowered at her for a moment before turning around and pulling Stiles up off the floor.

That done she turned and gave Peter a real smile. “Problem dealt with.”

He scooped her up again and nipped at the bite he had given her last night. “I love it when you get all bossy.”

And speaking of last night. . .her fingers deftly undid the top two buttons of his dark red shirt. “I think it's my turn now.”

She pulled him down, leaned in and bit him; bit hard enough that his skin broke and he stumbled. As she sucked she felt his nails turn to claws. She pulled away, “I'd rather you not ruin my dress Peter.” Then dove right in and gave him another.

This time she only pulled away when Erica spoke up. “Stiles, Isaac, help! I've been blinded.”

Stiles didn't appear, but Isaac did stick his head out from the den. “Erica.” She turned to look at him. “You're clearly not blind.”

The blonde flipped him off as he went back to cleaning. Then Lydia got a good look at Erica's outfit. She didn't even need to ask Peter to put her down this time. Without preamble she grabbed Erica's hand and began leading her up the stairs. For a moment Erica looked frightened. “It was just a joke.”

Lydia shrugged, “I don't care about that.” In fact she quite liked the teasing, it made her's and Peter's relationship feel more normal. At the top of the stairs she turned back to Peter. “Let us know when they arrive alright?”

He nodded, she turned back and headed to the girls bedroom. After the door closed she whirled on Erica, “take your jacket off.”

Dawning comprehension appeared in Erica's eyes and the girl flushed. “My alarm clock didn't wake me up, I was kind of in a hurry.”

Lydia resisted the urge to roll her eyes and tugged at the leather jacket. “That's why I'm here, now off.”

The jacket came off and Lydia walked around the blonde with an appraising eye. “Well at least we don't have to find you new clothes,” the viper green t-shirt and dark blue jeans suited the bombshell, though her usual leather jacket hadn't added anything good to the mix.

Lydia grabbed her forearms. “But only three bracelets, you don't want to deafen which ever werewolf catches your eye. One on your dominate hand and two on your non-dominate.”

Erica shucked them all onto the bed and stared, clearly debating which ones to wear. Impatiently Lydia snagged three medium-width, gold bangles and thrust them at Erica. “Here.” Wide-eyed Erica slipped them on.

She bit back a scathing comment about Erica's ponytail, instead snagging a brush off the vanity and pushing the other girl onto the bed. It took her longer than she would have liked to pull out the scrunchie, so her first few strokes were probably a bit more forceful than they'd need to be. Erica didn't complain though, just sat there and let her do what she wanted. “There,” gratefully Lydia tossed the brush aside. “Much better. A good rule of thumb Erica: never put your hair up.”

The other girl looked like she was about to speak but her stomach rumbled instead.

“And I'll bet you skipped breakfast too?”

The blonde nodded. Lydia sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose, sometimes it felt like she was the only one with some common sense around here. “Go down to the kitchen and get some food from Stiles.”

Erica nodded and hurried out of the room.

For the last time in the next few hours Lydia was alone. But she only had a moment to relish it before panic and worry begin to creep in. Staring up at the ceiling she mouthed mathematical formulae to try and stave them off.

-

Peter couldn't help but smile as he watched Erica flounce down the stairs and, easily dodging Derek, into the kitchen. He chuckled as he heard her begin to wheedle food from Stiles. Isaac was finishing off the den while Boyd had moved onto the dining room and Scott had apparently been saddled with bathroom duty. Derek was washing dishes from the sound of it and probably also watching Stiles like a hawk.

He still had twenty minutes before the Reids got there. So he let himself relax and just be.

The links that connected him to his pack were a gift, binding him to them just as certainly as they to him. And most of all they help keep him, relatively, sane. Isaac's bright and full of obligation, Boyd's stony and sure, Erica's now deep as tree roots, Scott's battered but stronger for it, and Derek's as insubstantial and ephemeral as smoke. Even more tenuous were the ones between him and Stiles and Lydia.

Her scent pulled him out of his reverie: aconitum, straw/nerves and acid/panic. Without a second thought he rushed up the stairs and knocked on the door of the bedroom, when no response came he burst in to see her lying on the bed surrounded by Erica's jewelry and staring up at the ceiling, her mouth making soundless words. “Lydia?”

He reached out and touched her, she blinked and he held back a sigh of relief as her scent returned to normal. “Peter?”

He knelt in front of her, knowing she was the only woman he would willingly do so for, and looked her straight in the eye. “I don't understand why this has you in so many knots. You were made to lead, and you couldn't be more perfect even if I wanted change you. Nothing you say will reflect badly on me, because you know how to be. You know when to be demure, and you know when to be the bitch, and you always know when you can be yourself. Trust yourself Lydia,” his lips twitched. “I dare say if you always did you could quite easily take over the world.”

When he finished she gave a small laugh. “You should have been a writer.” And something new came into her scent: chocolate/?. Amazement flashed in him; even now she surprised him. He watched her grab a tissue from the side table and then lean toward him.

He chuckled as she wiped the lipstick she'd left earlier off. “I always seem to forget myself around you.”

She smiled. “Must be my winning personality.”

There was a knock at the door and both of them turned to see Isaac standing there. The boy's apple and onion scent was laced with anxiety. “Yes Isaac?”

Isaac shifted his weight, “I uh. . .” He shifted again, frustration creeping into his scent. “I just. . .”

Peter could feel his own frustration rising, but he tamped it down as best he could. It wasn't Isaac's fault he couldn't articulate what his wolf wanted. Lydia though, seemed to have figured it out for she gave a fond sigh and a crook of her finger.

And Isaac was on the bed behind her, his scent evening out as he laid his head between her shoulder blades. For the first time Peter found himself slow on the uptake. But it wasn't long before he figured it out, and he once again began mentally cursing his nephew for choosing such broken teens to turn. But they were his problem now, his chains. Isaac whined and Lydia shifted so that she could run her hands through his hair.

He pulled them both into a bone creaking hug.

Barely a minute later, or at least that's what it felt like, the rest of the pack was there too. All except for Derek and Stiles, and Peter resigned himself to the talk he'd been putting off for the past few months. Though he was fairly certain that they'd just end up fighting all their problems out. The bed barely fit them all, but they give it a valiant try.

He could feel the strength in their bonds as they curled together. Sharing it with each other, making them all stronger. Human as she was he knew even Lydia could feel it, making her part of the pack, making her an Alpha, making her his mate.

They all turn to see Stiles, his fist raised to knock on the door. “Uh, the Reids are here.”

Peter nodded, and gently disentangled himself. “Lydia and I will be down shortly.”

Stiles also nodded, than vanished down the stairs. Peter held out his hand for Lydia. As she climbed out of the bed the rest of the pack made as if to get up too. He shook his head at them. “Stay. I'm sure you'll be able to hear if Lydia and I need help. And we'll call you down for brunch later.”

The other four teens settled down and he tucked Lydia's hand into the crook of his elbow. Even as they left the strength was still there, and so were the chains.

All was well in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And done. *lets out a big breath*


End file.
